


Soon

by youlostpleiad



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Reader Insert, SO MUCH FLUFF, and Gelato
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 05:01:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20040331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youlostpleiad/pseuds/youlostpleiad
Summary: You and Sam go on a romantic holiday to Italy





	Soon

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for [time-travel-bouqet's](https://time-travel-bouqet.tumblr.com/) 1k soft summer challenge, congratulations 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉 My prompt is in bold! I had a lot of fun writing this, and can only hope you all enjoy reading this :) Thank you [Amanda](https://stanclub.tumblr.com) for the reassurance while I wrote this! There are two sentences in Italian but the reader isn’t mean to know what they mean so the translation is at the end!

Behind your closed lids light begins to shine. You don’t want to wake up. The bed is comfortable, maybe even more so than the one you have at home. You contemplate going back to sleep, your eyes still unopened but he presses closer to you. 

“You awake?” His voice is still rough, he can’t be up for long.

“No.”

He chuckles, presses his lips to the back of your neck and brings them to your jaw before moving himself aside, enough that you end up on your back. He climbs over you, his legs between yours, his forearms taking his weight as he bends down to run his nose along your collarbone.

“I think you should be,” he whispers lowly into your ear. His lips trail kisses, behind your ear, down your neck, all the way down to the valley of your breasts. His breath is hot on your skin when he speaks again, his voice deep and mellow, “I really think you should be.”

Your heartbeat picks up with every press of his lips to your skin, “Maybe I’m a little awake.”

“Are you now?” He climbs up your body, presses a feather light kiss to your lips. You hum in response, and he kisses you again. Deeper this time, harder. He pulls away and smiles, almost mischievously, “That’s really great because the hotel breakfast closes in forty five minutes and I am starving!”

You whine, drape an arm over your eyes and pout before dramatically saying, “I’ve been bamboozled!”

He gently kisses your pouting lip, “And you always look so cute when I bamboozle you, my angel. Now go get dressed, food’s gonna be gone in forty four minutes.”

You sit up in bed, turn and place your feed on the floor, “You’re so darn lucky I love you, Samuel.”

He comes up behind you, pulls you into his arms and kisses your cheek, “and don’t I know it.”

***

You sit at a table for two, each with your plate and as much as you wanted to stay in bed you have to admit it had been a good idea to get breakfast. The two of you had plans, your vacation was almost done. You’d be spending most of the next morning packing and then the afternoon at the airport so today was to be enjoyed. Today you were going to walk the streets of the city, eat at every gelateria you found, you were going to eat dinner at a ridiculously expensive and fancy restaurant and then watch the sunset on the beach. 

You look across the table and watch him take a bite of a piece of toast, he’s not paying attention to you, he’s reading something on his phone. You take a moment to look at him. The long lashes casting shadows on his high cheekbones, his full lips, moving as he chews, they look soft, you know they feel soft too. You look at his nose, the one you kiss so often, the one he runs along your skin each and every day. He takes another bite of his toast and looks up to find you already looking at him. You take in his eyes, so dark and yet capable of holding such light. 

“What?” he asks, a smile on his lips so real it reaches his eyes, pushes his skin up and gives him that little eye crinkle you love.

“You’ve got crumbs,” you reach for his face across the table, grip his chin and use your thumb to clean away the stray crumbs in his beard, “There. All cleaned up.”

“Thank you,” his smile is softer now. He takes your hand from his face and stretches your palm open, presses a kiss to the centre of it. You finish your breakfasts with your hands tangled over the tabletop.

***

“Which flavour are we trying this time?” He's standing behind you, his arms around your waist holding you while you lean into him. You can feel his chest moving as he speaks.

"We tried stracciatella, mint and coffee already, I don't know what to pick," you push your head back against his shoulder.

"I have an idea," he says, stepping back and taking away his arms. He places his hands on your shoulders, spins you around twice and covers your eyes with his hands when he steadies you, "Point," his breath is warm against your ear. You stretch your arm out and he chuckles softly, "That's just the freezer, baby, higher up," you groan but raise your arm. He kisses your cheek, "Peach, we're having peach." 

"There's a dirty joke in there somewhere," you say as he starts making his way to the counter. 

He orders in Italian, because he practised for months started as soon and you had picked your destination. The woman hands him the cup with two scoops of peach gelato, he says something and shakes his head, "spoons" he tells her, and you laugh. Loud and full, two weeks putting his linguistic skills to good use and on the last day he forgets the word spoon. It's adorable. He looks back at you and rolls his eyes. 

The woman hands him two spoons and smiles your way, "Ha una bella risata, tua moglie," she tells him. It sounds melodic and beautiful even if you don't understand it.

"Lei fa,” he says, “e non ancora, ma presto," you don't recognize the words, but you know the sound of the smile in his voice and it brings one to your own.

The woman smiles brightly at him and starts speaking in a lightly accented voice, "Such good  _ Italiano _ and you forgot how to say spoon." 

You burst out laughing and he groans, "Why can't I have nice things?" 

"Hey! You have me," you say, a soft smile on your lips.

He turns to you, his gaze full of love and affection, "That I do, beautiful."

***

The hours pass you both by, you walk around the city and visit every gelateria, just like you planned. When it's time you head towards the restaurant having planned your walk so that your gelato tour ended as close to it as possible.

Dinner is exquisite, the portions are by no means huge but that would only be an issue had the two of you not spend the day eating. There's not a lot of talking. Sam and you settle in a silence filled with comfort, feet brushing under the table, smiles permanently plastered to your faces. 

Time with Sam is always like this. Whether you're running around being loud and having fun or sitting together being quiet, it's always happy with him. You're happy with him. Even when you fight at night you both crawl into bed and settle into each other's arms. When morning comes you can still argue about how he loads the dishwasher wrong, or about how you always pick the channel, but at night there's no excuse to waste the comfort of being in each other's arms. Even in the hottest nights of summer, when neither of you can bear the thought of blankets and tangled limbs because you think you'd melt, you really do, even then you fall asleep with your hand in his. 

So you eat in silence, occasionally making faces at each other, even if people are looking. Because who cares if some lady is judging you when you get to see a smile on Sam's face? 

You finish your meals and head to the beach. It takes no more than a few minutes, he had picked the restaurant so that it was close.

"We've got ten minutes 'till sunset," he tells you as you both step onto the sand.

He kneels and takes off his shoes and you do the same. Setting them aside. You stand there taking in the beauty of the world around you. Sam is holding you close to his chest, his chin perched on top of your head and his arms around your waist. For a few minutes you just listen. The wind blowing softly, the waves crashing onto each other, his breath, steady and calm. The sun is moving. Not quite setting yet but enough that the whole beach is bathed in a pale orange glow. 

"Hey," he says taking his arms away from you, "**your shoe's untied**," he moves to stand in front of you.

"**I'm not wearing any shoes**," you say and then you look at him, "oh." 

"Oh," he echoes. Down on one knee and looking up at you like you hung the stars and the moon.

You say his name softly, tears already filling your eyes, a smile as big as the world taking over your lips.

"When I met you I thought 'that's the most beautiful woman in the world, maybe if I'm lucky she'll let me take her out' and then I chickened out, because every second I spent near you made you seem even more perfect and I didn't think I had a chance and then you asked me out. And saying yes was the greatest decision I've ever made," his eyes are boring into yours, he holds a hand out for your left one and runs his thumb along your knuckles, "when we tell this story, I can only hope this will be the time saying 'yes' was your greatest decision," he holds up the ring, "Y/N, my love, will you marry me?" 

You can't speak. No, words could never express the way your heart is beating frantically, or the way you're on the verge of tears, or the knot in your throat. So you don't talk. You drop to your knees in front of him, throw your arms around his neck and kiss him. His lips are soft, always so soft. You pull away and hold his face in your hands, run your thumbs over his cheeks, "yes."

"Yeah?" 

"Yeah," and you stop holding them. The tears and so does he. He slips the ring onto your finger, kisses you again and it's not as desperate as it was before. No, this kiss is slow and perfect. Every touch of his lips to yours is perfect.

The sun starts setting. You both sit to watch it, pressed close together. Your hand in his, his head on your shoulder, and it's the happiest moment of your life. When it's over you don't move. You stay and listen to the waves and the wind and look at the beauty all around you. For too long perhaps, but you just want to sit there in your little happiness bubble for as long as you can.

"We should get back to the hotel," he tells you.

"We should. You started something this morning I'd very much like to finish, Mr Wilson." 

He presses a kiss to your lips, "best not to keep you waiting then, Ms-, future Mrs Wilson." 

You smile, can't help it. He's smiling too, big and open and beautiful, "I like the sound of that." 

You do.

**Author's Note:**

> "Ha una bella risata, tua moglie" - She has a beautiful laugh, your wife  
"Lei fa. E non ancora, ma presto" - She does. And not yet, but soon
> 
> Proposals are hard, kudos to everyone who's ever actually done this irl.


End file.
